Unicorn Sky, Unicorn Sea
by SpencerBrown
Summary: After millenia of solitude, a scientist returns to Earth, but Trowa finds more on the barren surface than anyone imagined possible.
1. The Planet: Part 1

Disclaimer: The characters belong to others. Only the story is mine.  
  
Genre: AU, scifi/fantasy  
  
Warnings: yaoi  
  
Unicorn (only until I come up with something better)  
  
by Spencer  
  
Book 1: The Planet Part 1  
  
Sand and silence covered the land for as far as the eye could see or the ear could hear. Stars swung slowly across the darkening sky as the last opaque glow clung to the cloudless western horizon. The faint bands of mauve and gold washed the desert in the barest flush of twilight. No moon broke the blackening dome of space, allowing each star or planet its own rare brilliance.  
  
One pair of eyes, solitary in the wasteland, mapped the glittering darkness with the affection of infinite familiarity. For millions of years the stars had followed their same courses, a few dying away, others kindling for the first time, but always innumerable, shining serenely down, countless companions on this barren rock.  
  
A stiff wind whistled in from the northeast, kicking up rippling curtains of sand. The waves flowed over the dunes, opening around slender ankles to merge again into the traveling stream. Two velvety white ears flicked into the breeze, soft fur picking up the tiniest of currents. If one listened long and hard enough, it could almost sound like whispering, a voice to fill the silence of endless centuries, but this was merely wishful thinking, and wishes were for those with hope.  
  
Serene oceanic eyes turned back to the sky, marking the slight change in position of the few visible planets in relation to the mass movement of stars through their inky background. The sky seemed full of glowing orbs, but out there between the fiery lights, the darkness was just as empty as this desert. Life was now scattered through the universe, carried by solar winds far from this barren little rock. Here life was only a distant memory, a memory which would remain forever captured behind sky-blue eyes.  
  
A quick flash and streak of gold caught those eyes and held their gaze until it disappeared behind the horizon.  
  
'How odd.'  
  
A long moment passed with all attention on the distance. When no echoing light or rumble followed, long dark lashes blinked in surprise.  
  
'Very odd.'  
  
The wind was dry, the sky was clear, and without a second thought the unicorn set out toward the horizon. 


	2. The Planet: Part 2

Book 1: The Planet Part 2  
  
5.30 HPN Day1 PT (hours past noon/planet time) AC 4061  
  
A loud hiss broke the calm of dusk, followed by a resounding clang as the heavy shuttle pod door swung open. With a grunt Trowa heaved himself up through the hatch and clambered onto the open door. The great dusty cloud was just settling in a ring around the impact site. He took a deep breath and held it for several seconds, trying to fully absorb his surroundings. With the tawny daylight fading in the west he surveyed the landscape, nothing but wind-carved orange dunes spread in all directions, descending rapidly into deep purple shadows.  
  
'So this is where we came from.'  
  
The air tasted dry on his tongue, though the day's heat was slowly seeping up into the atmosphere. Not a speck of life moved in the twilight.  
  
'How . . . odd. I knew it was barren, but I never realized Earth would feel so . . . dead.'  
  
Shaking himself from reverie, the lanky man leapt back down into his half- buried craft. Briefly checking to see that nothing had been damaged in the landing, he slid toward the communications equipment. He fell backwards into the pilot's chair, working easily inside the tilted capsule. Tinkering with a bank of switches and knobs only earned him a standard "Signal Blocked" screen, but this was enough to reassure him that the equipment was functioning properly.  
  
With a little levering and a few unusual footholds Trowa was once again outside in the twilight. He leapt easily to the ground and crouched there, sifting his fingers through the warm sand.  
  
'It's hard to believe this planet was once overrun with life. How sad. Billions of natural species reduced to this dust, all because of us.'  
  
He sighed as he stood, deep green eyes dropping shut. His gentle voice hummed through the air, a sound long-absent from the wasteland.  
  
"Forgive us, Mother. We were young and foolish, but I will find a way to rebuild what my ancestors destroyed."  
  
He watched quietly as darkness stole over the dunes. 


	3. The Planet: Part 3

Book 1: The Planet Part 3  
  
23.10 HPN Day2 PT AC 4061  
  
The sun beat down on sand and skin as Trowa worked to erect a workable base camp. He had spent the morning carrying supplies out of the capsule's many storage compartments and arranging them around the small crater his landing had produced. As the yellow sun rose higher in the sky the heat steadily rose. Now he guessed it was upwards of 33degC and still climbing.  
  
With an exasperated brush at sweat soaked auburn bangs he set to tying the last corner of his instrument tent's support ropes. This was the most important shelter. If need be he could always take shelter in the pod, but all his delicate scientific equipment must be set up in the open air to be effective, yet it couldn't leave it bared to the elements. At this rate the sun would boil his instruments in a few hours and render his project useless.  
  
One final tug secured the large white tent and Trowa stood back with a sigh of relief. Now he just had to move everything inside.  
  
An hour later found everything arranged. His instruments finally shielded from the sand, wind, and sun, the lanky scientist could afford a break. The sun had just passed its peak and he was glistening with sweat. The desert air was dry enough to lift the moisture from his skin almost immediately, but that was still little comfort from the baking heat. He leapt up the side of the capsule in a few steps and breathed a grateful sigh as cool air raised goosebumps across his skin. Standing on the slanted floor he felt a bit dizzy and collapsed onto his makeshift bed, actually the folded bulk of his own tent. He was breathing harder now than he had been while carrying heavy equipment, and he allowed his eyes to slide shut as he focused on pulling cool air into his lungs.  
  
//Silver hooves thundered through the darkness, raising clouds of sand in their wake as they rose and fell over the sea of dunes.  
  
'Where are you?'  
  
The passing stars reflected in bottomless blue eyes and shone in waves of the purest white mane, and before all this gleamed a slender pearlescent horn.//  
  
Trowa woke with a start. Though still groggy from heat exhaustion, he remembered his dream vividly. It was impossible, of course, for any creature to be alive on this planet besides himself, but somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming. 


	4. The Planet: Part 4

Book 1: The Planet Part 4  
  
4.0 HPN Day2 PT AC 4061  
  
The communications screen buzzed to life, supplying an image of a young Chinese man hovering in zero gravity. Shoulder-length black hair was pulled back tight to the base of his neck, safely out of serious black eyes.  
  
"Greetings, Trowa. How are things progressing?" He paused for a moment, frowning. "You look tired . . . and red."  
  
"Hello, Wufei." Trowa smiled ruefully and brushed limp bangs away from his rosy forehead. "The instrument tent is up and all the equipment is secure. I plan to erect my own tent this evening." He chuckled. "I've also discovered some hazards of working during the hottest hours of daylight: heatstroke and sunburn."  
  
"Ah." Wufei couldn't help the slight upward twitch of his lip at the visible consequences of that remark, but his expression quickly sobered. "Be careful down there, Trowa. Don't get yourself killed before we've even begun. You know our project wouldn't have a chance without you." A conspiratorial smile softened his words and told Trowa everything his friend's reserve wouldn't allow him to say.  
  
He returned the smile and nodded in acquiescence as a mop of unruly dark hair floated into view.  
  
"Any readings yet?"  
  
"No, Heero, but there is something I wanted to ask you."  
  
"Yes?" Wufei moved off to other duties as the blue-eyed Japanese man pulled himself into full view.  
  
"You've made a complete orbit by now. Have you scanned the planet's entire surface for life?"  
  
"Affirmative," Heero sighed. "It's just as deserted as everyone thought. Earth is entirely barren. Except for you, of course."  
  
"I'm the only life that showed up on the scans?"  
  
"Yes, why?"  
  
Trowa was gazing out the door to the empty desert. "Nothing . . . I just . . . thought maybe we had been wrong."  
  
Heero looked as disappointed as Trowa felt, but each knew the equipment couldn't be wrong. He was truly alone down here.  
  
"Trowa?" Heero seemed to be hesitating over something, but finally found the words he was looking for. "We're doing all we can from orbit, but you're down there. You've seen it. . . . Do you think it's possible?"  
  
Trowa sighed. "I'm really not sure. It's hard to believe there was ever life here, but if this planet was once covered with life I see no reason why it couldn't be again."  
  
Heero nodded, a small determined smile lighting his eyes. "Then we've got work to do. You'll be all right for the night?"  
  
"Yeah. I'll call again when I've made some progress. Trowa out."  
  
"Night, Trowa. Heero out."  
  
As the screen flickered to black Trowa headed back outside to set up his tent in the few remaining hours of daylight. The sun was hanging low over the horizon and he was suddenly assaulted by a pang of loneliness. He knew Heero's results shouldn't make a difference, nothing had changed from this afternoon, but in the short time since his dream he'd nearly come to believe that he might not be alone on this planet, that maybe they'd missed something due to distance. There was no doubting it now, though, he was the only living creature in this desert. His dream had been just that, a dream. He was a scientist. He had no time for dreams, anyway. All that lay before him was the project, and the hope that somewhere in these mountains of sand lay the key they needed to bring them back from the dead. 


	5. The Planet: Part 5

Book 1: The Planet Part 5  
  
Night  
  
Running. He'd been running for a full day now, hooves making rhythmic music as they ground into the sand. He could remember a time when he'd stumbled in the sand, when setting out at top speed through the dunes had resulted in stumbling, tiring, and eventually tumbling head-over-tail down a steep incline. This had been millennia ago, however, long before humans had even appeared in tribal bands. He had long sense learned to keep his hooves stable and fly across the loose sand. He no longer tired or fell, but could run indefinitely.  
  
Fast even breaths and the rhythmic fall of his own galloping hoofbeats lulled him to relaxation. Warm sunlit air flooded past his body in pleasant waves, washing away any awareness of time or distance. It had become habit, over the long years of isolation, to ignore his own memory. Instead of spending his eternity mourning his lost past, he simply found it easier to live in the moment, and ignore the fact that another time had ever existed. Loneliness could not cut so deep into a heart which had never known companionship. Thus he sank into familiar forgetfulness, losing all but the heat and his hooves. He wasn't immortal. He wasn't alone. For now he simply was . . .  
  
. . . and time moved on unheeded. Day succumbed to night. The sun set, the moon rose and the stars appeared in their circuit. Eternity passed as it had for the past thousand years . . .  
  
. . . and suddenly he was there.  
  
A dark shape rising from the luminescent sand knocked him sharply from his daze. He skidded to a halt atop a ridge, back-peddling a bit in surprise. He snorted into the now cold air, unsure quite what to do next. He'd only come this far because it seemed appropriate . . . and because, even after all the millennia, he was still a curious creature at heart. It wasn't every year he saw a meteorite land before his eyes, but he'd expected a bit of charred rock, a huge crater, or to find nothing at all, but he had never expected . . . this. 


	6. The Planet: Part 6

Book 1: The Planet Part 6  
  
11.20 HPN Day2 PT AC 4061  
  
Trowa cracked a fresh light stick into luminescence and hung it from the central ceiling beam of the equipment tent. The bluish-green rod cast eerie shadows across taught canvas walls, but it was the most efficient way to work in the darkness. If he couldn't work outside during the hottest hours of the day, that left tasks to be done at night, such as erecting his own tent. As functional as the landing pod had been so far, it did not make the most comfortable bedroom, and the tall boy was eager to have space to stretch out.  
  
As he expertly erected the smaller tent and began carrying supplies from one to the other, Trowa found himself glancing frequently northeast, as though he expected to find something new on the horizon. He could feel something coming, like a hum of electricity across his skin, though he had no idea what he was waiting for. Perhaps a sandstorm? More likely he was just reacting to his unfamiliar surroundings and his excitement over this expedition. His whole career had led toward this adventure. The prospect of actually living on the same planet he'd studied for so long was still fairly overwhelming.  
  
With a shrug he dismissed his feelings as inconsequential and returned his attention to the labor at hand. Within an hour everything was in place. He had erected his quarters just northwest of the landing pod, directly west of the larger tent, so he could watch the open expanse of sunset in the evenings. The tent itself was only a few meters square, but it held a bedroll, small desk, folding sling chair, wash basin, and waste facility. Like the tent, most of the furniture was made of shiny metallic frames with bleached canvas stretched in between. The only exception to this was the bedroll, for an array of rich blue blankets were folded and piled neatly around the low rectangular pad. Knowing the weather's unpredictability in a climate like this, he had wanted to be prepared, packing many extra layers for warmth. He wouldn't need them now, but who could say when he might?  
  
The feeling of impending . . . something, still hung in the air, but Trowa ignored it as he laid out a set of clothes for the morning. It wasn't that he distrusted his instincts, he had always found them to be quite accurate in the past, but he had simply learned to accept them pragmatically. If he had no idea what was coming, he had no way to prepare, so why dwell on something unalterable? He would be cautious and alert, as usual, and act accordingly at the appropriate time. It was all he could do.  
  
With a sigh of resignation he laid down to sleep. He had finished his objectives, so there was no point to staying awake any longer. He would know soon enough what this premonition meant. Until then, he could always use some sleep. 


	7. New Life, Old Life: Part 7

Book 2: New Life, Old Life Part 7  
  
Night  
  
With careful steps the unicorn moved silently down the loose embankment. The camp below him seemed deserted, but he knew better. There was a human here somewhere, most likely asleep, but not necessarily so. He must be cautious, quiet. As much as he craved the prospect of company, the sight of a camp brought back painful memories of capture . . . and worse. He had not always been the only one of his kind. Once the globe had been filled with his brothers and sisters, but mortal creatures were drawn to the immortal, some for peaceful reasons, others not. Humans had killed more of his siblings than he cared to recall, and, lonely or not, he did not wish to carry his species into extinction.  
  
Moving lightly across the sand he peaked a nose into the larger tent. This place smelled of a human, but not strongly enough for him to still be inside. The twin flaps were held together by a series of knotted strings, and though he was intrigued by the many pungent odors wafting from this tent, his immediate attention was focused on finding this human.  
  
The smaller tent was constructed much like the first, thick strings securing the flaps, but a cursory whiff told him this tent was occupied. Very slowly he took each bit of rope between his teeth, tugging ever so gently to loosen the knot without ruffling the wall of canvas. Starting at the bottom, with frequent pauses to listen for movement from within, he gradually worked his way up to his own height.  
  
Finally, the door was open far enough to admit a tentative snout, followed cautiously by the rest of the large white head.  
  
The human was asleep in the far corner, lying near the ground in a tangle of blankets. His face was turned away from the door, allowing blue eyes to glimpse only a slight curve of cheek and straight brown hair. The unicorn froze, both to make sure the human didn't wake, and in confusion at the flood of conflicting emotions roaring just under his velvety skin. He was suddenly ecstatic, terrified, hopeful, and horribly lonely. He desperately wanted to run over and wake this human, to have another soul to talk to, to ease this cutting, aching loneliness, but he was frozen to the spot with fear. What if this human were cruel? What if he had come as a hunter or trapper? What if . . . he wasn't there at all, and all this was just a cruel joke of his own imagination? What if his loneliness had finally driven him crazy? He wasn't sure if immortals could go insane. Mental illness might be as impossible for a unicorn as physical illness, yet-after all this time-he truly didn't trust himself enough to be sure.  
  
The moment of indecision ebbed and he took a silent step forward. This was not the way to meet this human, sneaking around in the darkness. Scanning the room in the limited moonlight seeping through the canvas, he spied a set of clothes folded in a chair. Moving slowly, with one eye always on the sleeping human, he made his way to the chair and took the corners of the clothes in his teeth. He then turned and left as silently as he'd come, leaving the door hanging loose behind him, drifting ever so slightly in the desert breeze. 


	8. New Life, Old Life: Part 8

Book 2: New Life, Old Life Part 8  
  
19.43 HPN Day3 PT AC 4061  
  
Trowa woke slowly as the first shimmer of sunlight crept down the ceiling of his tent. He swung out of his blankets, stood and walked to his chair, only to freeze in his tracks. The chair was empty. He stood, blinking, replaying the previous evening in his mind. Yes, he clearly remembered the clothes, he was certain he'd laid a set of clothes out before he'd gone to sleep the night before. It wasn't as if he could be thinking of another night, after all; this was his first morning out of the pod.  
  
After a moment of flustered deliberation Trowa took a deep calming breath. There was a tension in the air, an energy he'd never before experienced. It hummed along his nerves, both invigorating and calming every fiber of his being.  
  
Trowa's mind noted these reactions and began to search for an explanation. If this was simply an atmospheric anomaly of Earth, it was an odd one. Could he be ill? It was highly unlikely any contaigens still existed here, so he brushed this theory aside, as well. When no other solutions were forthcoming he shrugged and went about finding a fresh set of clothes.  
  
Fully dressed, Trowa paused at the door of his tent. The ties, which he clearly remembered fastening, were hanging loose from the canvas. How had it taken him so long to notice this? There was no breeze to ruffle the loose flaps, but still . . . Sleepwalking. His scientific mind provided its rationale. This would account for the clothes, the open ties . . . and the vague set of footprints he now noticed leading from the chair to door. Yes, he must have been sleepwalking. It didn't account for the strange energy still floating through him, but it was the only reasonable explanation. There would be nothing unusual waiting for him outside his tent. The very idea was ludicrous. With a self-deprecating chuckle he stepped from his tent . . .  
  
. . . and into another world.  
  
Everything seemed exactly as it should be. The sand beneath his feet was still cool before the sunlight's morning kiss. The sky was a clear crystal blue, shifting to rosy gold just around the rising sun. The air was dry and crisp, thought perfectly still in the breathless silence. Indeed, everything seemed quite realistic, yet Trowa knew he must be dreaming, for sitting quietly on the dune before him, eyes closed in contemplation, was a boy, a human boy, and that was not possible.  
  
He stood, mouth open in shock, staring at this vision of serenity. The boy appeared to be approximately his own age, with white-blonde hair, and the palest complexion Trowa had ever seen.  
  
As these facts filtered into his rapidly recovering mind, a cacophony of thoughts began tumbling into motion. 'He has my clothes! Well, that makes sense, it certainly accounts for everything, but it's impossible. Heero scanned this planet yesterday, and there was no life. Yet here he is. Did we miss something? Is he a colonist? He could have come from a shuttle crash, but he still would have shown up in the scan, and how did he survive out here alone? Is he alone? How could anyone survive with no food source, or did we miss that too? Maybe he only arrived last night on a transport, but Wufei would have told me if another ship were in the area, so he must have been here before. Why didn't he show up on the scans?!?!?!?!? . . . Am I just going crazy?'  
  
This confused garble was brought to an abrupt halt as the strange boy opened a pair of light ocean-hued eyes and smiled tentatively.  
  
"Hello."  
  
Trowa blinked, still staring, with his jaw hanging loosely. He watched the boy study him nervously, eyes darting over his frame, the rest of the camp, then back again. The friendly smile wavered and began to fall before Trowa could gather enough wit to form a reply.  
  
"Hello," he finally stammered.  
  
Relief swept over the other boy's face, but the uncertainty remained. He smiled again, shyly, and this time Trowa returned the gesture. He couldn't seem to help it. Even this tempered expression evoked such a strong echo of his own feelings he felt compelled to respond.  
  
Somewhat regaining his composure, Trowa stepped forward carefully, watching every subtle movement of his 'subject'. Trained eyes took in every detail, from golden head, to pale bare foot.  
  
The boy had short blonde hair, hanging in silky clumps before and around large, round, sky-blue eyes. Dark lashes outlined those brilliant eyes, but their faded golden tips seemed almost to glow in the clear morning light. His complexion was paler than Trowa had ever witnessed, and it seemed completely untouched by the sun. Noting that his own skin had burnt within a few hours and was quickly shifting to a deeper brown, lent this strange observation special significance in his mind.  
  
The boy's face and arms were thin, and the way Trowa's light vest draped loosely around his torso suggested the same.  
  
He wore no shoes, nor any visible shred of fabric that he had not lifted from Trowa's tent.  
  
In every detail it appeared as though this boy had simply dropped from the sky.  
  
Taking another small step forward, noting the distrust in the other's eyes, Trowa spoke again, quietly, refusing to let his excitement show.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
The boy frowned, lowering his gaze to dart around the sand at his feet. This question seemed to have caught him off guard, though how that was possible, Trowa wasn't sure. Shouldn't the answer be simple? The moment of silence stretched on, and Trowa began to get suspicious. If the boy were trying to concoct a lie, this extended wait had more than given him away. What could he be thinking?  
  
"I am here."  
  
The quiet answer surprised Trowa. He'd been expecting any number of elaborate stories, all completely false, no doubt, but this was . . . curious. The boy wasn't lying, but clearly was not revealing the truth, either.  
  
Trowa decided that directness would aid him in this situation.  
  
"Obviously, but where did you come from? You were not in my camp last night, so where did you come from and how did you get here?"  
  
"I walked across the desert to find you."  
  
"That's ridiculous, you can't have just walked across the entire desert, where did you start from?"  
  
The boy pointed out over the sand. "There." These ambiguous answers were becoming annoying.  
  
"But where do you live?"  
  
"In the desert."  
  
"But we scanned. It was barren. Is there life we missed?" The golden head shook sadly.  
  
"No."  
  
"Then how do you survive?"  
  
"I just continue."  
  
Trowa paused. The boy seemed as though he was speaking with all sincerity, and it wasn't in his scientific nature to give up when frustrated, but this line of questioning was getting him nowhere. He decided to switch courses.  
  
"You said you came to find me?"  
  
"Yes." The boy nodded, his smile growing as his voice gained strength and confidence. "I saw your ship land and came to meet you."  
  
Trowa was so confused by this point he simply blurted the first thing which came to mind.  
  
"Why?"  
  
The change brought about by this simple three letter word was astonishing. Trowa watched as the boy's whole demeanor, which, until now, had been rather upbeat and sunny, melted away to a heart of deep pain and melancholy. His glowing blue eyes sank to hide behind wispy bangs, as the rest of his already small frame seemed to collapse inward. The softly spoken response held far too much pain for a single being to withstand.  
  
"I was lonely."  
  
* * * 


	9. New Life, Old Life: Part 9

Book 2: New Life, Old Life Part 9  
  
Morning  
  
The unicorn smiled as he watched the human go about his work. Every few minutes he would stop to wipe the sweaty auburn bangs from his forehead, and every time his hand lifted the damp hair from his eyes, those eyes would seek out the unicorn. The unicorn was pleased by this. This human seemed kind enough, although the unicorn was still wary, and any company at all was preferable to the dreadful solitude of the desert. After so many decades alone, the frequent eye contact, being able to connect with another living being, even for just a few seconds, was like a sudden shaft of sunlight on a cloudy day. He clung to each moment for as long as it could last, gazing into those bright emerald eyes as though they held all the secrets of the universe within their depths.  
  
When he learned that the unicorn had no place else to go, the scientist had allowed the unicorn to stay and watch him work. The unicorn did not know exactly what the boy was doing, but just watching the other move among the multitude of machines was fascinating enough. The unicorn knew quite a bit about science, at least the science that had existed before he was left alone, but most of these strange instruments were completely foreign to him. So much equipment was kept within that little tent! Well, the tent was actually quite large, but as it sat amidst the endless waves of sand it seemed to shrink into insignificance. Still, in the unicorn's mind this small crater, containing merely two canvas tents and a small shuttle, encompassed the whole of the desert. All the years of wandering alone were eclipsed by this single sun's passing.  
  
Perhaps this man would stay, he thought. Perhaps the years of solitude had come to an end. It had been so long since he had shared this world with another creature, and despite his fears, this did seem to be a very nice creature. No, the unicorn decided, he would not mind sharing the world with this human at all.  
  
As the hours wore slowly on, the unicorn felt the sun beat down on his skin, and the breeze, no longer a symphony of smells, but simply a muted melody, toss his short blonde hair about his head. He reached up with one pale hand and pulled at a strand that fell across his eyes. The same nuisance had plagued him in his natural form as well. Every time he transformed into human shape, the vague hope remained that he might attain mane free vision, but that hope was always dashed. Apparently something in his nature dictated that his eyes be veiled by silky forelocks.  
  
The unicorn shifted uncomfortably on his sandy perch. The sun's rays no longer felt pleasant, but were beginning to burn, within and without. He suddenly remembered how mortals felt heat and cold. His normal awareness of temperature was a subtle awareness, both heat and cold lacking any sort of teeth. For humans, the shift was much more violent, and the growing fire along his body was quickly becoming intolerable. The scientist did not seem to be suffering from this ache of heat. Surely something could be done. He swiped silken bangs from his own damp forehead, only to smile at the air that cooled as it brushed past his skin. That's what he needed, to move around. Perhaps if he helped the human work, the heat would lessen. That seemed logical.  
  
With careful steps, the unicorn rose and walked to the main tent. As he approached, the green-eyed human looked up at him curiously.  
  
"May I help you?"  
  
The scientist showed no emotion, but nodded once, quickly illustrating which packages of supplies needed to be moved and stored. Though he gave no outward sign, the unicorn felt that he had made the man happy, which in turn made him happy. He thought that this was a good beginning. 


	10. New Life, Old Life: Part 10

Book 2: New Life, Old Life  
  
Part 10  
  
23.05 HPN Day3 PT AC 4061  
  
Trowa sighed and swiped long auburn bangs from his stinging eyes. It was almost time for siesta, and the desert heat was fast becoming too oppressive to continue working. He would have stopped nearly an hour earlier, but the delicate supplies could not survive this boiling downpour of sunlight for much longer than the equipment could, and without them he wouldn't survive for long and his mission would be pointless. Well, he amended, glancing across the white canvas shadows of the tent, not entirely pointless. If the boy were telling the truth, and knew a way of surviving in this sterile wasteland alone, that discovery in itself would be worth the trip. Such knowledge would prove invaluable to future expeditions, and may one day provide the key to making Earth habitable again.  
  
A small smile stole across lean lips as he watched the boy move supplies in from the sun. There was certainly something peculiar about the blonde waif, an odd sense of balance and tendency to lose his feet. Several times during the morning Trowa had seen him topple to the sand amid a shower of tan crystals, yet it wasn't just gracelessness that tangled the pale limbs. The boy was the essence of grace itself, flowing from one position to the next like the floating breeze. It was more of an awkwardness, a lack of familiarity, as though the boy were not accustomed to his own body. Trowa noted with amusement that it was quite an endearing trait.  
  
The boy disappeared again into the blinding sun and Trowa fell from his analysis. He raked back dripping bangs again and let out a heated sigh. Even inside the tent he felt as though he were baking. It was definitely time to stop. He checked his inventories and found that everything immediately perishable had been brought in. He decided to take the boy into the shuttle with him to rest for a few hours as soon as he returned with the next load. Perched on a crate, he waited a few minutes to no avail, so went in search of the blond child.  
  
The light, reflected from every sandy surface, blinded him a moment, but through the hand before his eyes he found a fallen shadow in the brilliance. The boy was lying as he'd fallen across the sand, half his face buried, the other poorly shielded by clinging blond locks. Trowa lifted him gently and stumbled for the dark gleam of the shuttle.  
  
Cool air poured over them like a glacier, pricking welcomed goosebumps from overheated flesh. The abrupt change made Trowa's head spin, and he quickly laid the boy down before sinking beside him on trembling legs. He sat a long moment, head in hands, back resting against the makeshift cot, feeling his pulse pounding through his ears. As the sweat covering his body finally cooled and dried he looked up to where the boy was laying.  
  
The pale face was dry now, but beginning to blush an angry red, as were his neck and hands where they fell from limp sleeves. Trowa sighed as he realized from experience that the burns would be painful for several days, his own burn had yet to heal, and the light complexion of this boy's skin seemed to have magnified the damage. Weak racing pulse, light quick breathing, skin hot to the touch, and collapse, heat exhaustion was practically unheard of on the colonies, but Trowa had done thorough research before coming to this desert planet and recognized the symptoms, it was a more severe reaction of what he'd experienced during his first day.  
  
Why had he let this happen? He knew better than to work in the sun during the hottest daylight hours. Were a few crates of supplies worth making this boy ill? Yet, he hadn't continued without thought. If this boy lived in the desert, shouldn't he be used to the conditions, or at least have adapted some way of combating their effect? Or, at the very least, shouldn't he know when to get out of the sun and protect himself? He had asked the boy to help him, but had assumed that if the work were too much he would stop. Why had he kept going if he was uncomfortable or unwell? This part Trowa simply could not understand, so resolved to ask once the boy awoke.  
  
A high beep drew him to the console where Heero's concerned face greeted him.  
  
"Trowa, what's going on down there? Are you all right?" The blue-eyed scientist was staring behind Trowa as though he expected an attack at any moment. Trowa couldn't help but be a bit startled at this reaction from the usually collected man, and felt his own anxiety rise that Heero should be so worried.  
  
"I'm fine. What's wrong?"  
  
"When we came over the horizon this morning we detected another life form, and it's right on top of you. Have you seen anything?" Ohh, yeah. Trowa's mind finally put two and two together as Heero kept speaking. "It's probably just our sensors malfunctioning, but it could always be some predator that was somehow able to hide from us. You're fine?"  
  
"Yes Heero," he smiled. "I'm fine, and actually, I have found your other life form."  
  
"What?!?!?" Duo suddenly shoved his way into view and Trowa had no doubt that Wufei was just out of sight. "There's life down there and we missed it?!?"  
  
"Yes, Duo, I'm not exactly sure how he got here, or how he's survived here by himself, but he is most definitely alive." A long pause met those words, but was finally broken by Heero's tentative voice.  
  
"'He'?"  
  
"Yes, it's a human boy. He looks about our age, but seems . . . somehow . . . much older and much younger at the same time. I can't explain it really. I haven't found out much about him yet. He was sitting outside my tent this morning wearing my clothes. I know it sounds impossible, but it seems like he's never actually lived in the desert. His skin's paler than any colony kid I've ever seen, but he got sunburned in the few hours we worked this morning. He speaks Human with a bit of an accent, something like . . ." He wracked his mind for the similarities he'd been hearing all morning but which had remained just beyond his grasp. ". . . sort of like the New England colony. He certainly seems like he hasn't seen another person in a long time. I haven't been able to get many straight answers from him yet, but I'm going to try harder once he wakes up.  
  
"Don't look at me like that, Duo, I'm not hallucinating. You guys found him on your scanners, remember? Go ahead and check again, he's lying here in the pod with me. I know exactly how crazy this all sounds. I don't understand a bit of it, but I don't know what else to tell you, that's everything I know." Again, Heero was the first to speak.  
  
"You said, 'after he wakes up'?"  
  
"Yes." Now Trowa looked a bit sheepish. "I said he got sunburned, he actually passed out from what I think is heat exhaustion a little while ago and hasn't woken up yet."  
  
"Trowa, don't work him to death yet, we haven't had a chance to study him!" Heero slapped Duo's head and shoved him back off the screen. He was distracted by something to the side for a moment before turning back to the camera.  
  
"Trowa, take care of him, he may be the key we've been hoping for. His life is more valuable than any of us could imagine. Tell us more when you can." A small smile lifted his cheeks. "And Wufei thinks you need to be reminded to take care of yourself, too. I agree. Good luck."  
  
"You, too, Heero." The screen went dark, leaving Trowa once again alone with the boy.  
  
Filling a small cup with water, Trowa went back to the cot and sat beside it. He carefully brushed aside the soft yellow bangs and blew cool air across the glowing forehead. At the steady touch, light eyelids began to flutter and struggle open. Thin slits of blue were hazy and frightened, but Trowa was reminded sharply of his dream. There was an ocean within those eyes, a forest, a desert, plains, swamps, grasslands, beaches, clear blue skies, and so much more . . .  
  
Trowa drew away panting hard and heavily. Who was this boy? What was he? Where did he come from? What was he doing here, and above all, 'why did he come to me?'  
  
Taking firm control of these spinning thoughts, Trowa turned back to the boy before him, still gazing up with unsure eyes. With slow calming movements he lifted beneath thin shoulders, helping him to sit up, and held the boy there as he brought the cup to dry lips. The boy obeyed warily, probably still lacking the strength to put up a fight, and after a bit of surprise at the water's quenching touch, devoured the rest of the glass hungrily. A request for more was met with temporary refusal, but promises of more later, once his stomach had agreed with this bit.  
  
"What's wrong with me?" the boy asked groggily once Trowa had lowered him back to the cot.  
  
"You have heat exhaustion." A blank stare contested this statement, so he tried again. "You spent too much time in the sun, and you got dehydrated. Did you drink any water today?"  
  
"Why would I?" That was a response he would certainly follow up on later, but for now the boy's recovery was his first priority.  
  
"When you spend time in the sun, it dries the water from your body. You have to drink more to make up for it."  
  
"Oh." The boy nodded slowly. "Yes, I forgot, it's been so long." Now Trowa's curiosity was practically eating him alive, but self control was a virtue he prized. He could see the boy becoming sleepy, and gave him another cup of water before letting him rest.  
  
"Thank you. I'd forgotten humans are so fragile. I'll be more careful." With that he drifted to sleep, leaving Trowa with more questions than he knew how to count. 


	11. New Life, Old Life: Part 11

Book 2: New Life, Old Life

Part 11

19.46 HPN Day5 PT AC 4061

Trowa woke with the dawn as always, groaning as his neck creaked painfully. Blinking to full consciousness he remembered why he had slept sitting up: the boy had been ill, and he had wanted to stay close. Turning slowly while feeling every one of his vertebra pop, he was alarmed to find the pallet along with the rest of the pod, empty. Trowa sprang to his feet, soreness forgotten, and lurched out the door. If the boy had vanished in the night, gone back into the hiding place from which he had appeared . . . well, his research may not be over, but Earth's best chance for survival would certainly have vanished with him.

Trowa stumbled down into the cool morning sand and paused, listening. A soft lyric sound was drifting gently on the breeze, circling the campsite and teasing his senses. By standing perfectly still and focusing all his attention on the elusive sound he could just make out the rhythm of words, and followed them over the nearest dune to the east. There the boy sat, folded neatly atop a dune, singing into the sunrise. Here the scientist paused again, mesmerized by the simple beauty before him. The sun was just clearing the horizon, blazing white against a pale gold sky. The first of its fiery rays leapt from crest to crest, just threatening the dawn's blue shadows. Lumination trickled through the boy's glowing hair, running along his entire form to pool as a radiant halo around his dark silhouette. A voice as light as the pale sunshine danced on his ears, and though the words made no sense, Trowa found himself caught in their dance.

"_Raindrops on Roses and whiskers on kittens_

_Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens_

_Silver-white winters that melt into springs_

_These are a few of my favorite things_

_Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes_

_Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes_

_Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings_

_These are a few of my favorite things."_

The last note trailed with a sigh, before another tune picked up as softly as the first.

Through Trowa hadn't spoken, the boy must have finally noticed his presence, because the singing ended mid-verse, leaving the tall brunette full of unreleased tension and a prickling need for resolution. The boy turned slightly, revealing a dark profile against the sunrise, and gestured for Trowa to join him in the sand. With an appraising blue eye the boy glanced quickly over his tan skin, then raised a hand to press gently against Trowa's forehead and cheek. The gesture reminded Trowa of his own mother, and how she checked for fever when he was ill. This brought his analytical mind around to another observation, that his skin was no longer burnt of sore. He gazed at his forearm and found the skin smooth and tan, darker than before, but healed, as though the burning had been repaired overnight. Glancing back to the boy beside him revealed marble-white skin, un-scorched and pale, not even retaining the brown shading his own had so recently adopted.

"What happened yesterday?" The gentle voice was urgent, needing an answer, and Trowa tried to respond as clearly as possible.

"We worked too hard and the heat made you ill. Do you remember?" He thought for a moment, squinting into the sun.

"Yes. The sun burned your skin and you kept its heat. I woke during the night. You were unwell and . . ." He paused and Trowa's mind was filled with likely scenarios, but whatever revelation may have been forthcoming was reconsidered and concealed, leaving Trowa with nothing but his speculation. "Do you know any songs?"

Though frustrated by the non-sequiter, Trowa thought back to his childhood. His own part of the station had not been particularly rife with the arts, but a simple lullaby soon came to mind.

"I know one."

"Will you sing it for me?" Light eyes glittered with innocent pleasure despite the uncertainly of his voice. Unaccustomed as it was to following a melody, the velvety tone surprised Trowa himself as it folded richly over the dunes.

"_Hush my babe, don't you cry_

_Go to sleep my little baby._

_When you wake you shall have_

_All the pretty little horses._

_Browns and bays, dapples and grays,_

_All the pretty little horses."_

The boy's eyes had closed, and he smiled happily in the sunlight as the lullaby ended, swaying gently with the breeze. Finally he looked up, eyes bright with grateful tears.

"Thank you, Trowa."

The scientist smiled, touched as he had never before known. When the moment had grown beyond silence he spoke.

"You know my name, but I still don't know yours. What should I call you?" The boy thought for a moment, staring at the sand, eyebrows furrowing as he invoked beloved memories, painful in their absence. Looking up he was troubled.

"I don't remember. I've been alone so long . . ."

Trowa frowned. "I've got to call you something." The boy nodded, willing but unable to help. "How about Quatre?" He blinked, not comprehending, so Trowa explained. "You appeared during my fourth day here, and that's an old Earth word for the number four." Saying it aloud suddenly made the suggestion seem very silly, but when the boy smiled brightly and began to nod, Trowa felt his stomach flutter. "Good. It's nice to meet you, Quatre."


End file.
